


Smile

by Rhu14



Category: Rome
Genre: Antony; Brutus; Curio; Caesar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 22:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3335504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhu14/pseuds/Rhu14
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brutus tries to impatiently brush Antony off, but finds he can't quite manage to get rid of him!</p><p>Note: Fans of HBO 'Rome' will note the two characters are the same. However, being a history geek I have set the story several years earlier, amongst Antony's adolescent 'rebellion' where (according to Cicero) Antony and young Curio were lovers, with Antony taking the 'submissive' role. Most frustratingly, Cicero declined to give us any further detail (how rude!) but as we all know, rarely is there smoke without fire!</p><p>At any rate, hope you enjoy ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile

Antony was noisy. Antony was loud, loutish and devil-may-care. Brutus knew that Antony well, and disliked him. But Brutus also knew a different Antony: one capable of such silence that the silence itself seemed loud, like the silence up in deserted mountains or hills.

Brutus feared that silence. He admired it too, albeit grudgingly. He recognised it for what it was - menacing, predatory, a tiger stalking its unwary prey. Antony reminded Brutus of a big cat: the heavy grace, the eye-catching, almost vulgar, beauty, the purposeful, slow movement that bordered on insolence at times. Now, as he walked from the door to the bed - Brutus' bed - he had long, purposeful strides that carelessly demanded attention and then, having captured it, basked in it, even as a cat might stretch itself out and rejoice in the sun. Antony rejoiced in being Antony.

Brutus sighed, refusing to admit his disquiet to himself. He had once complained to Caesar about Antony, who had made it clear through a polite raised eyebrow and carefully neutral, yet slightly disbelieving, facial expression, that Brutus was overreacting.

It was all very well for Caesar, Brutus thought bitterly, as he turned to face a smirking Antony. Antony had draped himself casually on the bed, endless legs sprawled in front of him. Caesar had Antony's respect. Caesar was Antony's cousin; Caesar was Antony's elder by nearly twenty years. And of course, though Brutus disliked admitting it, even to himself, he was Caesar. In contrast, Brutus had just turned twenty-four. There wasn't enough distance between his age and Antony's (how old was Antony? he wondered. Twenty one, twenty two?) In their teens, three years had been enough of a barrier - the distance that had existed between fourteen and seventeen was notably less marked now, in their twenties, and that gulf didn't exist any more. Brutus caught Antony's self-satisfied smirk and vowed to treat him as he could have ten years ago: an adult to a misbehaving child.

"Antony?" he asked, in a voice that he hoped conveyed just the right touch of boredom and disinterest.

"Brutus?" Antony parroted back, grinning at him.

Curse you, Antony, taking that slight advantage I had there, thought Brutus. "What do you want?" he asked tersely.

Antony's arrogant grin seemed to shift slightly and moved into sincerity. Perfect white, gleaming teeth. Brutus wasn't fooled but relaxed slightly.

"I just want to talk to you!" Antony said innocently.

Brutus sighed. "About?"

Antony made a vague gesture with his hands. "Just - tell me about - " he paused - "about you. Your life. Tell me about what you do, Brutus."

Brutus laughed involuntarily. It was a short bark of a laugh and one he immediately regretted. What the fuck did he do - that was a good question. He smiled at Antony, hoping the right amount of cynicism and self-deprecation were expressed in the smile. "What makes you think there's anything to tell?"

Antony's smile had gone from arrogant, to sincere, to sweet. You could just never tell with Antony, Brutus thought. "There must be something."

"All right." Brutus turned to face Antony properly, feeling as if he was speaking to and humouring a child much younger than himself. "I saw Cato yesterday. Do you want to hear about that?" Antony grinned and shook his head. Brutus laughed. "Then last week, I saw Cicero." Antony's face screwed up and Brutus laughed again. "You see Antony - we can't just talk, can we? You have your friends, and I have mine."

Antony scoffed. "Friends?"

"Yes, friends," Brutus said firmly. They might not be his age, and he didn't always enjoy spending time with them, but he did have respect for them, and they him. "And what about your friends, Antony?"

"My friends?" Antony asked innocently, although he was grinning cheekily and his eyes were dancing.

"Yes, your friends!" Brutus interjected a Caesar-like crispness into his words, hoping it managed to successfully convey the "none of your nonsense!" tone Caesar deployed so effectively with Antony. It wasn't without affection, but there was just a note of sternness too.

Antony ignored Brutus' tone and continued to smile cheekily. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't want to know anything!" Brutus said exasperatedly. "It's been you wanting to talk!" Despite himself, he found a smile was stretching out onto his face. It was impossible, he thought wryly, to spend any length of time with Antony and have a completely straight face. Antony and the young incorrigibles, as Cicero called them, might be extreme in their actions and so badly behaved that even second hand stories about them demanded gasps of shock and self-righteous head-shaking, but when Antony was right in front of you grinning, so brazen, sassy and flippant - when he smiled - that smile demanded you smile back. "Besides," Brutus added, "I hear enough about your crowd on the streets of Rome!"

"We don't have to talk about one another's friends," Antony said, undeterred, stressing the word 'friends.' "Talk to me about you."

"About me?" Brutus spoke patiently: a father indulging his little boy.

"Yes. I want you to tell me about women."

"Excuse me?" Brutus spoke sharply, embarrassed, then realised his mistake. Antony sprawled back on the bed, grinning, smug. There was the twist, Brutus realised - Antony had been deliberately childlike and let Brutus think he was in charge of the conversation, when all along, Antony had been waiting to tease and annoy and humiliate. Brutus forced himself to look right at Antony, who was insolently laughing at him. Antony stared back, chin raised, still grinning.

"Brutus? Why aren't you answering me?" Antony taunted him, his tone light.

Brutus rather suspected that Caesar would have reached over and slapped Antony - hard - at that point, but Brutus knew he lacked the physical strength and in any case, he didn't really dare hit Antony. Instead, Brutus steeled himself and caught Antony's gaze.

"I suppose I am wondering why you are asking," he said calmly.

Antony's face was innocent. "I'm just wondering!"

"Really? Well, if you are just wondering, why aren't you asking me about men? That's where your experience mostly lies, isn't it?"

It was a risky tactic, but it had worked, Brutus thought. Or at any rate, Antony was glaring at him rather than giving him that insolent smile. Good. Brutus smiled to himself.

"Of course I've had experience with women! I've had more than you!" Antony's retort was childish, and they both knew it.

Brutus shrugged. "I daresay you have. More experience with men, too."

Antony looked angry for a moment, then smirked again. Brutus sighed inwardly. 

"You've heard about me and Curio, then?"

"I think most of Rome have heard about you and Curio," Brutus replied evenly.

"Good. That's what we want!" Antony made a strange face and pulled himself back up into a sitting position. The movement was imposing and lovely. Brutus didn't want to ask, but curiosity had got the better of him.

"Why?"

Antony shrugged. "It's funny."

"It isn't true," Brutus said matter-of-factly.

"Isn't it?"

"I don't believe it is."

"Why?"

Brutus sighed. "Antony, I've seen you eyeing up girls since you were twelve years old." Antony grinned. "I completely believe you get up to a lot of incredibly scandalous stuff, and Curio does too - but there is no way you are going to convince me you changed your entire sexual persuasion for Curio!"

Antony swung his legs around so that he was directly facing Brutus, their knees touching slightly. Brutus shivered and tried to move back, but his chair was right against the wall. He was trapped.

"How do you know I don't like both?" Antony asked softly.

Brutus swallowed. "You might, I suppose. That is your business."

"I might," Antony agreed. He leaned forward and looked right at Brutus. His eyes were cat-like: greeny-grey. His skin was golden. His hair was honey-coloured, thick and bright and shining. Brutus forced himself not to look away. He could count the small smattering of freckles across Antony's nose. It had been warm lately, and Antony had caught the sun. 

"Antony?" Brutus said uncertainly. "Antony, what are you - ?"

"I'm showing you."

Brutus breathed in, steadied his voice. "I don't want to be shown."

Antony grinned. "I think that you do." His hand traced lightly across Brutus' groin, and Brutus gasped involuntarily. "I gasped like that when Curio touched me there." His voice was low. He leaned forward, his hands teaching the line of Brutus' steadily growing cock. "It took me by surprise, too. But it's fine."

Brutus gulped and tried, rather half heartedly, to stand. "Antony - please - "

Antony stood with him and pushed him down. "Ssh. It's fine. It's fine."

Brutus barely knew how to react as he sensed, rather than saw, Antony's face in his, obstructing his vision, and then a kiss. A soft one, one that was almost tender, romantic. Brutus' knees trembled and desire rushed into him, filling him. This was Antony the brave, Antony the badly-behaved, Antony the bright and beautiful, and he was finding him Brutus, plain, dull, boring Brutus, desirable. Feeling attractive was a feeling almost unknown to Brutus. He couldn't help but enjoy it.

Antony's hands were stroking upwards now, across his chest and shoulders. Brutus grunted, wishing the noise hadn't escaped from him. He might just as well announce to Antony how much pleasure this was giving him. He felt Antony's hands rub and stroke at his shoulder blades and then he was pulled, with a force that surprised him, on top of Antony on the bed. A part of him recognised Antony's capacity for physical strength: Brutus was not a particularly tall or big man, but Antony had pulled him as if he weighed no more than a small bag of grain. Excitement and surprise elicited a gasp from him: he looked down at Antony, lying carelessly under him, completely at ease. Gaining confidence, Brutus tentatively reached out and touched Antony's hair. When no protest came, he allowed himself to stroke and comb his hands through it. Antony closed his eyes and almost, Brutus thought wryly, seemed to purr with satisfaction.

Antony placed his hands behind Brutus' head and pulled him down towards him. Brutus gulped, pushing his head into Antony's chest, feeling himself being spun around. He felt Antony unwrap his clothing from him and buried his body closer to Antony's: he felt too exposed, too vulnerable. Antony took Brutus' hands in his and guided them towards his own clothing. Brutus kept his eyes shut. He desperately wanted to open them, to see Antony naked, but his embarrassment was too intense, too burning. Instead, he touched the skin, running his hand over a thigh, a calf muscle, a spine. 

"Open your eyes," Antony whispered, but Brutus kept them screwed shut and shook his head. He wasn't ready. Antony chuckled.

Soft kisses up and down the length of his body, each one causing him to spasm and moan. As Antony hovered over Brutus' hot, hard cock, Brutus breathed loudly, forcing himself to keep some semblance of control. As he felt Antony's lips close around his cock, he arched his back and cried out, finally allowing himself the luxury of opening his eyes. Big, cat eyes stared up at him, smiling, smiling.

"Antony," Brutus groaned. His hands reached out and touched his hair; Antony's gleaming, silky head. "Antony!"

"Ssh, ssh," Antony soothed, moving up from Brutus' cock and lying over him. "It's fine. I'm here. I'm here."

Brutus gazed up at Antony, and felt safe. Antony was covering him, and he felt safe and almost cherished and protected. He felt Antony turn him over and flinched, expecting a slap, but relaxed and stretched as Antony's hands were on his back and then moved down towards his arse. Brutus stiffened. 

"It's fine," Antony said again, softly.

"No - " Brutus moaned. "No. Antony, please, no."

A stroke and a kiss. "Trust me."

Brutus gasped.

"Trust me," Antony said again, and Brutus felt himself being opened, exposed. 

At first, oil-covered fingers were all he felt, but then suddenly there was a bigger, more intense, more filling pain and Brutus cried out, fingers scrabbling for something to grip onto. "Antony, no!" he whined. "Please!"

"Relax," Antony whispered. "Breathe. Breathe in - " Brutus obeyed - "and out." Antony continued to whisper instructions and slowly Brutus felt the pain abate. He concentrated on breathing and ignored the fact the cock of Marcus Antonius was buried inside him.

As Brutus relaxed, he felt a soft pat - of approval? - and then a moving sensation, and he cried out, partly in fear, but also pleasure. The skin to skin contact with Antony was delicious and those hands and lips were still moving up the length of his body. Then, a new sensation; a peak of pleasure Brutus hadn't known existed and his mouth dropped open and he closed his eyes. His breath came in rugged gasps. He felt hands under his belly and yanked up, on all fours, arse in the air. He felt hands close around his cock as Antony rammed into him. Brutus shrieked ("Ssh!" from Antony!) and then Brutus' world fell out of focus and he came. His eyes watered, his nose ran, his bones turned to liquid. He collapsed on the bed and noted without any real thought that Antony had also starfished out on top of him. A moments silence, broken only by panting.

Finally, Antony lithely organised his limbs back into a sitting position, a fluid motion that was sublime and graceful. Brutus stared at Antony, properly taking in his naked body.

"You're beautiful," Brutus whispered.

Antony was nonchalant. "I know."

Brutus felt himself laughing, silently. "Modest!"

Antony grinned. "I never lie, Brutus!" The words were pointed and destroyed the beauty of the moment. Brutus felt cold and wrapped the sheet around him. 

"It is possible to omit the truth, though, isn't it?" Brutus asked. Don't beg, Brutus thought, and Antony, please, don't make me beg for your silence. 

Antony burst out laughing. "I won't tell anyone!" His words were reassuring: Brutus realised Antony had just been teasing him, playing with him, the spoils of a tiger's dinner. Yet the anger flared, now: Antony had scared him and ruined a pleasurable memory, tainted it. He hated him briefly.

"I think that's best," Brutus said haughtily. "I doubt anyone would take your word for it anyway." He moved his eyes up and down Antony's naked body, hoping to shame him.

Antony raised an eyebrow: there was something of Caesar in that gesture, Brutus thought. He had seen it a dozen times - to Antony himself, mid-scolding, where it served as a warning. "Did you really want to say that?" it said. Of course, Antony being Antony, he generally did mean to say whatever it was, but Antony wasn't stupid and would backtrack hastily around an irate Caesar. Brutus forced himself not to take back what he had said.

Antony shrugged. "You're probably right."

"Sorry?" Brutus asked politely.

"Who'd have thought? Brutus fucked by Antony so hard he can't sit down? Who would believe that indeed!" Antony jeered at him and Brutus breathed through his nose, mouth shut in irritation.

"Do you have to be so vulgar!"

Antony stood up, still naked. How did the fact he was unclothed add to, rather than detract from, his presence, wondered Brutus. 

"I think that's a bit rich for someone who just had their arse in the air with my cock in it." Antony used his advantage of height to stare down at Brutus, still sitting in the bed with his sheet modestly tucked around him. Brutus looked away, embarrassed, and then felt a hand in his hair.

"Don't worry, little Brutus!" Antony pacified him. "I enjoyed it as well. And there nothing to be ashamed of. You know - " he leaned forward and out his mouth next to Brutus' ear " - you know, Curio fucks me like that all the time."

Brutus jerked his head up. "You - "

Antony was before him, completely naked and completely confident. The tiger, stunning in its own skin, had brought its prey down, thought Brutus. And it was enjoying its feast. Brutus glared at him.

Antony smiled.


End file.
